


Homework Verse: I Hold the Lock and You Hold the Key

by nyxocity



Series: Homework Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Breathplay, Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Leashes, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:54:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxocity/pseuds/nyxocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timestamp to the verse. Set two years after the epilogue. Intense, romantic intimacy with a healthy dose of D/s as an underscore and a final seal to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homework Verse: I Hold the Lock and You Hold the Key

It’s quiet except for the low sound of classical music playing in the living room as Jared pushes open the kitchen door to the house. Jensen’s probably still in there doing research, right where Jared left him a couple hours ago.

“Honey, I’m home,” Jared calls, voice lilting teasingly as he shifts the grocery bag under his arm and closes the door with his foot. It doesn’t even feel strange to think of Jensen’s house as home, anymore. He’s been living here all summer this year instead of back and forth between here and his parents like he did last year. He’s gotten used to spending every moment with Jensen, and he’s really not looking forward to going back to school in a few weeks. But they’ll still have weekends. And holidays. Summers are always the best, though.

“I tried to call you,” Jensen says, coming into the kitchen. His hair is ruffled, like he’s been tugging his hands through it. 

“Yeah, reception at the market sucks.” Jared sets the bag on the counter.

“I realized about an hour after you left that we’re also out of—“

“Tomatoes,” Jared says, snatching one from the bag. He throws it into the air and catches it against his palm, presenting it in one smooth motion. “Tada.”

“You’re going to bruise it,” Jensen chides, sliding his palms around the ripe, round, red curve. Jared cups his hand against Jensen’s, fingers curling through Jensen’s, tomato skin teasing at his fingertips.

Jensen’s mouth quirks a little, and he pulls his hands back. “Put the groceries away.”

“Tease,” Jared grins.

Jensen slides his hands into his pockets, tilts his face down and looks at Jared over the rims of his glasses, eyes glimmering. “Want me to show you a tease?”

“You know you’re gonna give me an aneurysm one day,” Jared informs him matter-of-factly, reaching into the bag. “Or a heart attack, if I live that long.”

“And then I’ll be sorry?” Jensen asks, bemused.

“God, I hope not,” Jared grins, grabbing an onion out of the bag and setting it on the cutting board.

“The steaks were—”

“Getting warm on the counter so you put them in the fridge,” Jared nods. “I figured. Did you--”

“Yeah. I made the Dijon marinade.”

Jared stops, looks at Jensen hopefully.

“Extra garlic,” Jensen nods.

“You’re too good to me.” 

“Don’t tell anyone,” Jensen smiles, walking to the sink.

“Right. Wouldn’t want to ruin your rock solid reputation as an asshole.” Jared digs out the rest of the groceries; cucumber, lettuce, cheese.

“I worked hard for it,” Jensen agrees lightly, soaping his hands. Then he stops and looks at Jared. “Did you wash your hands?”

“You do _know_ I had to actually touch these to put them in the cart and the bag?”

“Get your ass over here.” Jensen rinses his hands under the water. “And bring the vegetables, too.”

Jensen dries his hands on the dish towel and then puts them on Jared’s hips, pushes him against the counter in front of the sink. Jensen’s chest presses into his back, hips snug against him. Jared can feel his muscles moving through clothes, under skin as he takes Jared’s hands and washes them, soaping them slick, fingers massaging between the webs. And Jared doesn’t know how he’s supposed to concentrate on washing vegetables at all when he can feel Jensen’s body moving all over him—but of course, that’s part of the game.

Jensen’s hands clasped over his, guiding Jared across the smooth tomato skin, the rough texture of lettuce, until finally all the vegetables are wet and dripping set neatly beside the sink, and Jared’s hard as a rock, dick caught between the counter and Jensen’s weight. Jensen lifts Jared’s hands with his, laces his fingers through Jared’s and sets them on the faucet handles. Slow squeeze, Jared’s palms against the metal, turning off the water and then holding him there. Jensen’s mouth opens, hot and wet, sucking hard against the skin of Jared’s shoulder, hips rocking forward ever so slightly.

Jared shudders, groans, fingers clenched around stainless steel, cock pushing hard against the marble counter. Jensen’s half hard, pressing insistently against the crease of Jared’s ass, and even though Jared knows this is just the appetizer, nowhere near the main event, he can’t help grinding back into Jensen just a little.

“Keep moving,” Jensen whispers insidiously, breath hot against Jared’s neck, “and I’ll fuck you right here.”

“That’s not much of a threat,” Jared whispers, moving his hips.

Jensen bites his shoulder, hard, then licks over the mark. “After dinner. While I make you do the dishes.” Tongue stroking up the back of Jared’s neck, warm puff of air tickling the hair behind his ear. “And if you can get them all completely clean without hesitating even once, I _might_ be nice enough to let you come when I’m done with you.”

 _God_. Jared can _see_ it, hear it, feel it. Jensen fucking him hard and slow into the counter while he struggles to focus on washing. There’s no fucking _way_. 

Jared goes still and obedient, and Jensen just laughs, full and throaty at the back of Jared’s neck, squeezes Jared’s hips once and then lets go. 

They move through the kitchen as one, Jensen helping him cut the salad in between trips to the grill. 

It’s not until they’re halfway through their meal at the dining room table when Jared remembers. 

“Oh. Chad’s brother called me on my way to the market. He’s getting married. They want me to be in the wedding party.”

Jensen nods, forks into a piece of steak and lifts it to his mouth. “Pallbearer?” he asks with a smirk.

Jared laughs, shakes his head. “I think they’re calling it ‘usher’ these days.” He takes a bite of steak, rich and succulent against his tongue, chews appreciatively and swallows. “You always this bitter about weddings?”

Jensen shrugs. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings in my life. One of my mother’s friends has been married nine times. _Nine_. Weddings are insane.” Jensen shakes his head like he’s completely mystified. “People having hysterical fits and bursting into tears. Screaming, ‘Where’s the photographer?’ and ‘Did everyone get seated right?’ and ‘Are the flowers all in the right places?’ and my personal favorite, ‘Dear God, the guest colors don’t match the wedding party’. I even had to talk a groom down out of a tree once. It’s a circus, a public spectacle. A way of trying to convince the world that everything’s going to be okay between the couple, when most of the time they know long before they get there that it’s never going to work out.” He tilts his head, arches a brow at Jared as if to say _enough said_.

It’s maybe the longest speech Jensen’s ever made in casual conversation. Jared feels like he should really understand what Jensen’s saying when Jensen’s saying _so many_ words at once, but he just… _really doesn’t_. “Maybe you’ve been going to the wrong weddings,” Jared says, thoughtfully. “Because I’ve been to a couple and they weren’t anything like that.”

“Were you ever part of the wedding party before?”

“No.”

Jensen’s brows rise as he looks back down at his plate, and Jared sets his fork down. “What?”

“Do you think they’re getting married because they’re overcome with joy?” Jensen asks, like the answer should be obvious. His eyes are sharp as they meet Jared’s, and Jared doesn’t like what he sees there. “They _have_ to get married,” Jensen goes on. “Their families want it, expect it. It’s what people like them do.”

Derision in Jensen’s voice, judgment. “People like _what_?” Jared demands, feels his jaw harden as he bites out the words.

Jensen’s face smoothes in response—and Jared recognizes this, this is Jensen going into ‘mode’, pushing out his emotions, speaking distantly, like this is just another casual instruction about physics or some other kind of science. “The normal kind, doomed to ridiculous rituals of conformity.”

“What do you mean, ridiculous?” Jared pauses. “And what do you mean _doomed_?”

“At best, people get married for their families, for financial reasons; at worst because they got someone pregnant, or they’re trying to force themselves to commit. People don’t _want_ to get married; they do it because it’s what they’re _supposed_ to do. And then they end up miserable and divorced within two years.” Jensen tilts his head, curls his fingers around his wineglass. “Doomed. Ridiculous.” 

“You don’t think it’s ever about true love?” Jared feels… feels like the rug just got yanked from under his feet. He hadn’t _known_ this. Can’t believe he never _knew_ this about Jensen; dark, cynical opinion dug deep under Jensen’s skin. 

“Maybe once or twice,” Jensen allows, sips from his glass, sets it down. “But not very often.” He leans across the table, close into Jared’s space. “It’s a piece of paper, Jared. It binds people together legally. It doesn’t mean anything emotionally, except that people mistake it for something that’s somehow going to magically make their relationship better. Make it last forever,” he says, smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“So what about us?” Jared asks, sitting back in his chair. 

Jensen blinks, studies Jared’s face for a moment. He sits back, settles into his chair without ever breaking the lock of their eyes. “It’s not necessary for us,” Jensen says, voice flat.

“Why not? Because we can’t commit like that? It would be a joke if we tried? Is that what you think of our relationship?” The words are out of Jared’s mouth before he can stop them.

“That’s not what I said.” Jensen’s face darkens and he rubs at his jaw, the line of it tense and hard. 

And that’s it. Jensen’s annoyed now, too. Anything they say from here on out will just turn uglier, do more damage than good. Jared should just stop, shut up and let it blow over until they can talk about it rationally. But this… he feels like he got blindsided. 

“Might not be what you said,” Jared says, getting up from the table, appetite suddenly gone. “But you’re not contradicting me.” He waits a few seconds, and when Jensen only folds his hands together and looks down at the table, Jared spins away. Momentary pang of guilt, and then he’s gone into the living room, anger following hard on the heels of the tightening cord in his stomach that tells him he’s abandoning Jensen. Giving up.

He presses a hand to his forehead, tries to make sense of it all as he sinks down into the couch. He’s not used to feeling this angry, this hurt. He feels… God, he feels _betrayed_ and he can’t remember the last time that happened. Jensen’s always there for him, backing him up, agreeing with him, laughing about it with him. _Whatever_ it is.

It’s about five minutes later when Jensen cuts a shadowy silhouette against the doorway to the dining room. 

“That…” Jensen says as he walks the rest of the way to where Jared’s sitting. “What I said...” Jensen sets his jaw, doesn’t sit down. “It didn’t come out right. Didn’t come out like I meant it.”

“You think?” Jared asks, arching a brow

“God _dammit_ , Jared.” Words hissed out through taut lips, hand rubbed across Jensen’s jaw. 

And damn it, damn it, damn it. Damn Jensen for _trying_. 

Jared takes a deep breath, feels the words poise on his tongue. He reaches out, puts a hand on Jensen’s hip and looks up into those stormy eyes. “Then… if you didn’t mean _that_ … what the fuck did you _mean_?”

Jensen bites his lower lip and glances to the side, shaking his head. Then, Jensen takes a deep breath, falls to his knees, on the carpet right there in front of Jared. “All I ever meant,” he says, looking into Jared’s eyes, “is that love… real love… shouldn’t be turned into a circus. When two people want to be together, when they love each other enough to even consider ‘forever’… it should be private. A ceremony shared between just the two of them.”

Jared stares, suddenly breathless, unable to speak. God, the intensity of Jensen’s eyes, how much he can _see_. Warm fingertips skim his cheekbone and he leans into the touch, bites down on the inside of his cheek. “So you think there’s something to the symbolism of binding yourselves to each other emotionally?” Jared slides his hands in Jensen’s hair, pulls back and has to look at him. “Tell me that’s true.” It’s a demand as much as a plea.

“I don’t need a piece of paper to make me want to be here,” Jensen says, breathing sharp, like the admission costs him something. He licks across his lower lip, gathers the words, and when they come, Jared doesn’t have a fucking thing to say in return.

“I don’t… need other people to tell me if it’s right or wrong. I don’t need their approval, or their joy. It’s what _I_ want.” Jensen’s hand locks around Jared’s wrist, thumb caressing the curve of the gold bracelet there. The one Jared never takes off—for _anything_. _Entanglement_ engraved on the inside, _Irreversibility_ engraved on the outside. Jared still remembers when Jensen gave it to him. Kissed him and fastened it around his wrist, explanation murmured into Jared’s mouth. 

_“Entanglement is a phenomenon in which the quantum states of two objects become linked together so that one can’t be fully described without describing the other. Irreversibility is the statement that these objects, after this process has taken place, cannot be changed back to their initial states.”_

Smooth pad of thumb over metal, Jensen’s mouth kissing him, breathing out, “I want _you_.”

Jared leans his head forward, lets it tilt against Jensen’s. He flexes his hands in Jensen’s hair, lets his eyes flutter closed. Mouths pressing together, warm, silky and smooth. So natural, so known. Kissing Jensen is like breathing, now, just as necessary.

Jensen smiles against Jared’s mouth—he can feel it. “There’s no legal ceremony needed for people like us.”

“So, this…” Jared nips at Jensen’s lower lip. “Is all we have? What’s between us? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because…” Jared breathes deep, slides his hands to the back of Jensen’s neck. “Because… I can be okay with that.”

“We don’t need it. We’re better than that. Above it.” Slow drag of lips, thumb brushing Jared’s chin. “No piece of paper,” Jensen shakes his head, eyes intent. “Nothing to bind us that’s created by the outside world.”

“Are you…?” Jared can’t even complete the sentence, can’t believe Jensen is saying this. Deeper meaning implied, felt.

Jensen takes him by the face, thumbs pressed deep into the hollow beneath his jaw. “Yes.” Jensen tilts his head, kisses Jared’s mouth, slow, languid. “That’s…” swirl of tongue, “exactly…” gentle bite against Jared’s lip, licking slow across the curve, “what I’m saying.”

Jensen rises slowly to his feet, tonguing Jared’s mouth, hands pressing him back into the couch. One knee across Jared’s thigh, and Jensen crawls slowly on top of him, mouth teasing, warm and rough. Thighs spread across Jared’s lap, penning him in, kissing him slow, so slow he thinks he might die, fingertips searing into his face like brands. 

“If we take that next step, it’s between us. For only us to know.”

 _God_. Jensen’s eyes, his face, the way he’s touching Jared, voice rough and warm. Jensen’s not always this blunt with words. Mostly implication with body and hands, words only a follow up to what’s he’s _really_ saying, and Jared always understands him. This though, this is different. So many words, and Jared needs to be sure, extremely, incredibly _totally_ sure of what Jensen’s saying.

“You keep saying ‘if’, like you’re not sure about this.”

Jensen pulls back, fingertips curling into the space behind Jared’s jaw, his ears. “I _know_ what I want.”

“Then you…” The world spins, turns upside down in Jared’s mind. “You don’t know what _I_ want?” Jesus. Is it even possible that Jensen doesn’t know? Hasn’t he made it clear enough, real enough?

“We’ve never talked about this before,” Jensen says, words breathed carefully. And that… that fucking _hurts_. That Jensen still feels like he has to be careful in any way.

“Don’t you know? Can’t you _feel_ it? The way I feel about you? Christ, if there are aliens out there, _they_ know how I feel about you.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re ready for the next step.” Jensen’s so close, so warm, and all Jared wants to do is fall into him, kiss him, make him _believe_. 

But he has to know. “What’s the next step?”

Jensen stops, just looks at him for a second. “It’s not the right time for that.”

Jared runs his hands over Jensen’s, fingertips sinking through, between the webs and clasping, knuckles grinding into his own face. 

“Why not? If there isn’t anything else…” Jared says, breathing into Jensen’s mouth. 

“There is,” Jensen says, fingertip running the line of Jared’s jaw. “You’re twenty. I’m twenty-eight, going on thirty. There’s so much else out there for you.”

“I don’t care,” Jared says, heart hard, determined. “I don’t _want_ anything else. Any _one_ else. I want this… want you.” Slow, heated kiss, and he can’t ever imagine anything else feeling like this; like it’s _right_ , like it’s _everything_. “I’m yours. Whatever it is, I want it.”

“Jared.” Two syllables breathed into the stillness between them and it’s possibility; mouths touching, worlds on the edge of converging. “You don’t even know what you’d be promising.” 

Jared laces his fingers, spreads them across Jensen’s palms, slide of skin on skin as he pulls them away from his face, opens his eyes wide and looks into that face, so open, honest and earnest. “Then tell me. Tell me what I’d be promising.”

“To be mine,” Jensen says, like he doesn’t already know Jared _is_ his.

“I’ve been yours since the first time I looked at you. God… don’t you know that?”

“Not…” The word catches and Jensen clears his throat. “Not like that,” he says, shakes his head. “This has always been ‘for now’. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I’ve always known that, accepted that one day you might… decide you want something else.”

“ _What?_ “ Jared can’t believe it. “You don’t think I’m old enough to make that kind of commitment?”

A muscle clenches in Jensen’s jaw, mouth twisting regretfully. “I know you feel that way right now. But, Jared… you can’t predict how you’re going to feel five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Things change.”

“No,” Jared says, hands tightening against Jensen’s skin, pulling him in tight. “Not us. Not this. We don’t change. Fifty years. Sixty. A lifetime.”

Jensen closes his eyes, shakes his head, forehead resting heavily against Jared’s. “You can’t promise that. I can’t let you.”

And it’s clear they’re not just talking about a promise. Jensen is dancing, avoiding the subject, talking around it. And that, is _not_ like Jensen at all. Jared’s eyes narrow. “ _What_ is the next step?” he asks. 

Jensen hesitates, like he’s debating whether to answer or not. “It’s something… very private very personal. Weddings are a public statement.” Jensen bows his head, kisses at the hollow of Jared’s throat. Warm lips, soothing, searing. “This would be different.”

“Whatever it is… just _tell_ me.”

“It’s not the right time for us to do it.” 

Jared can _hear_ how much is behind those words, how much Jensen’s holding back. “Just fucking _tell_ me.”

Jensen heaves a soft sigh into Jared, lifts his head and meets Jared’s eyes. “Collaring,” Jensen says, thumbs flexing against Jared’s throat. “It’s a ceremony. A dom and sub ceremony. The dom puts a collar on the sub’s neck. It means… they belong to each other. That they’ve… given themselves completely to each other. But it goes deeper than that, marks the dom as deeply as it does the sub. Marriage is a ritual done for other people. But this… it’s done privately between two people.”

Jared’s still for a moment, just taking that in. “Seriously? This is an actual… _thing_ that people do?”

Jensen nods. “Some people look at it as a ‘Master and slave’ agreement. Even then, it’s still the ultimate expression of devotion for two people in that kind of relationship. But you’re not a typical sub, Jared. And I don’t want you to be. We usually only play those roles sexually. But what it means on a deeper level would extend to the entire relationship.”

“Meaning what?”

“It would be more on the emotional, symbolic level for us, the acceptance of giving ourselves to each other completely. I’d never expect you to wear it all the time. But the meaning between us would always be the same, whether you’re wearing the collar or not.”

Jared accepted a long time ago that his life with Jensen wasn’t like other people’s, and he kinda really loves that—a _lot_ \-- but this is new. He’s torn between the way Jensen’s words make his heart swell and still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that they’re even _discussing_ this.

“Although…” Jensen goes on, fingers toying with the collar on Jared’s shirt, thumb brushing the skin at the edge. “If we ever did do this, and we went anywhere in public where this kind of thing was known and accepted… I’d want you to wear it there.”

Publicly marked as Jensen’s property, for the entire world to see. Just the idea makes Jared’s cock twitch, it’s so insanely hot. He rocks his hips up, slow drag and slide of their hard cocks together. Jared lets out a low moan, and Jensen swallows the sound, tongue slick, teeth catching the edge of Jared’s lip as he pulls away. “Do you have to wear anything?”

Jensen angles his hips against Jared’s body, weight of his chest pushing Jared deeper into the couch, hands locked around the place where Jared’s neck meets his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles into the heated skin, teasing pressure not quite cutting off his breathing. “Traditionally, no. But I would.”

“What would you wear?” Jared gasps out, Jensen’s hips rolling into him, cocks molded together.

“The key,” Jensen whispers, licking a hot trail up to Jared’s ear. “So everyone could see that I’m bound to you, too.”

“Key…?” Jared feels a little faint, pulse pounding between his thighs, Jensen moving against him, controlling the rhythm of their hips. “The collar has a lock?”

“Oh yes,” Jensen breathes, and Jared can feel the wicked curve of Jensen’s mouth smiling against his skin.

And okay, um, _Jesus fucking Christ_. Jared’s brain is about to short circuit from sheer fucking hot.

Jared turns his head, catches Jensen’s mouth with a wet drag of his lips, words whispered out, hot and breathy. “So when do we do it?”

“Jared…” Jensen draws back just a little. “I didn’t expect this. It’s too soon.”

“So you don’t… have a collar?”

Jensen stares at him wordlessly, thumb stroking across the pulse rabbiting in Jared’s throat. He looks vaguely embarrassed.

“You really don’t?” Jared asks, disbelieving.

Jensen shakes his head and sighs. “Of _course_ I do.”

Jared laughs, can’t help it. “That’s what I thought.”

“I bought it just for you,” Jensen says, kissing him, body undulating in a slow wave against Jared. “Had it custom made, to fit your neck perfectly.” Scrape of teeth against Jared’s chin, tongue gliding the way down his throat.

Jared tilts his head back automatically, tightens his fingers in Jensen’s hair, sighing out a moan. And then he realizes-- “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Mmm… noticed that, did you?” Jensen asks, teeth grazing Jared’s collarbone. 

God, it’s really hard to think past the way Jensen’s touching him, rocking into him, hard line of him pressed between Jared’s legs. Jensen bought the collar—who knows how long ago, probably a _long_ time ago, knowing Jensen--but he never said a word until they started arguing about weddings and Jared pushed him. God, oh fuck, that feels good. He lets his head roll back against the couch, exposes more of his throat for Jensen. Jared knows it’s meaningful, kind of a big deal, but it’s not like he didn’t give himself to Jensen completely ages ago. So why is Jensen being so dodgy about this?

It hits Jared suddenly, all at once, wild rush of understanding. “You’re afraid.”

Jensen’s mouth pauses, breathing out hot against Jared’s neck. “Aren’t you?” Jensen asks.

And that just gets right under Jared’s skin, brings everything into a narrow, angry focus tight as a pinpoint. He forgets Jensen’s hands on him, that wicked mouth teasing at him. “You,” Jared says with distinct annoyance, “are an _idiot_. We’ve known each other for over two years, been together for most of that, and you still don’t fucking _know_ that of all the things you’ve ever made me feel, fear _isn’t one of them_?”

Jensen stops moving, lets go of Jared and sits back slow, bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve never been afraid of me… and _I’m_ the idiot?”

“Don’t try to make this about me, because it’s _not_. I _trust_ you. And okay,” Jared says, warming to the subject. “Let’s say it’s not forever. You could get hit by a bus tomorrow. _You_ could decide you don’t fucking want this--five, ten, twenty years from now. We can’t predict the future, Jensen. I’m willing to take the chance. _You’re not_. And _I’m_ the one who doesn’t know what the fuck they want?”

Jensen stiffens, just stares at Jared for a long, tense moment, like he’s weighing out Jared’s words carefully, one by one, exacting them and slicing them into tiny little pieces inside his mind. Jared imagines that it’s not unlike what staring into a serial killer’s eyes would be like, and it sends a shiver twisting down his spine. 

“That’s what you think?” Jensen asks, voice flat, cold.

“It is,” Jared says, holds his ground, lifting his chin against the hardness in Jensen’s eyes.

Jensen’s mouth thins into a bloodless line and he gets to his feet before Jared has a chance to realize what’s happening. 

Jensen straightens out his collar, runs a hand down the row of buttons on his shirt. Smooth flowing motions, calm and collected and Jared frowns, bites his lower lip, heart a skidding zigzag inside his chest. He hasn’t seen Jensen like this since… since they shared a classroom.

And then Jensen turns, walks down the hall to the bedroom and shuts the door. Quietly. Carefully. Barely audible click.

Jensen never shuts the door. Never. There’s no reason to, with just the two of them here.

Jared bites down on the inside of his cheek, throws himself backwards into the couch and sighs. 

_Dammit_.

He has options. He could chase Jensen down, knock on the door, let himself in and try talking to Jensen. Okay, yeah, _apologizing_ to Jensen, because he threw the first ‘punch’ and got nasty and insulting and probably hurt the hell out of Jensen’s feelings by saying he doesn’t believe Jensen wants this. Even if he does think Jensen’s a little bit afraid—which Jensen confirmed—it doesn’t mean Jared has to be such an ass about it. He hadn’t meant to. He just… hadn’t been thinking; let his mouth get ahead of him in his hurt. 

So, yeah, there’s that option, which, okay, he’s never been _afraid_ of Jensen, but he’s a little worried about how that might turn out. Pushing the issue right now, with Jensen in the kind of mood Jared hasn’t seen on him in more than two years… probably not the best idea.

And what if Jensen actually locked the door? Does Jared really want to know that?

Which brings him to option number two: stewing for the rest of the evening and then sleeping right here on the couch for the night.

Or… option three: he calls Chad and they go out and he worries the whole issue to death _out loud_ all night. Which really isn’t even an option, because he loves Chad, and Chad would totally listen and try to help, but it’s… too personal. Too… deep. And too confusing for Jared to even try explaining to a third party right now.

_Fuck._

His cock is still half hard, body still warm with Jensen’s weight and heat. He can’t even remember the last time he came without Jensen there, on the phone or in person. 

He palms hard against his cock, pushes down the want and lies stretched out on the couch, one arm slung across his eyes. The room smells like cinnamon tea and paper, scent of Jensen on his skin, and all Jared can think is how much it smells like _home_.

*

He wakes to the silky texture of Jensen’s thumb tracing his lower lip.

His eyes flutter open, meet Jensen’s staring back at him, quiet, penetrating, like he’s looking right through Jared, and Jared feels a wild jolt of apprehension mixed with relief surge through him, leaving him giddy and sick all at once, and fuck, they’ve never fought like that before. Always little things, little things. Nothing as big as this.

“You think you know,” Jensen says. He’s still guarded, still veiled, and fuck, Jared isn’t sure how to deal with this. He’s never been here before.

His heart makes the decision for him before his sleep-muddled brain even has a chance to register the words. “I didn’t mean to be such an ass--”

Jensen shakes his head, presses his thumb to Jared’s lips, silences him. Quiet, it’s so quiet, just the sound of the two of them breathing, Jared’s heart already speeding up, thumping in his ears. Why doesn’t Jensen want to let him apologize? Let him… let him say…

_You’re all I ever wanted. Please don’t go away._

Jensen bites deep against his own lower lip, like he’s thinking hard about what he’s going to say next. 

_Please._

Jensen rolls his thumb down Jared’s lip, swell curling under, against itself. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” he says, rising to his feet.

_No, no, no_

“I didn’t want us to fight over it.”

“Jensen,” Jared breathes, sitting up. His feet touch down against the carpeted floor and it feels softer than it should, like comfort he doesn’t want. 

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Jensen says, darkly, like he’s angry with _himself_ , and that leaves Jared reeling so hard that he’s at a loss for words again.

Jared sits forward as Jensen folds his arms across his chest, walks across the living room to the big bay windows at the front of the house. Jensen’s silent for a few long minutes, and Jared’s perch on the edge of the couch feels as precarious as this moment.

When Jensen speaks, his voice is quiet, almost resigned. “You’re not wrong. There is part of it that’s me—but it’s not that I’m afraid of committing to you, Jared. It’s that I’m afraid of you committing to me, for all the reasons I mentioned before. And because…”

Jensen trails off, and Jared glances up at him, dark silhouette cut against the early morning sunlight that falls through the filmy curtains. It paints the room in a dull red glow, like the color of blood, and Jared tries to breathe like breathing doesn’t depend on the next few words out of Jensen’s mouth.

“Because… if I let myself believe that you were here for good, and then you left one day…” Jensen shakes his head, leaves the sentence unfinished, but Jared can hear the rest, as clearly as if Jensen had spoken. 

_It would kill me._

Jesus. Fuck. _That’s_ why Jensen is afraid? Jared’s eyes fall closed, squeezing tight with relief, pressing back tears. Fingers clutching the soft couch cushions for strength.

Jared rises, walks up behind Jensen, slides his arms around Jensen’s waist. He’s warm, solid in Jared’s arms, and Jared tucks his chin into the curve of Jensen’s neck, nuzzles against the smooth skin. “You said you don’t let yourself believe I’m here for good now… but what if I left tomorrow, Jensen?” He takes a breath, feels the tension coiled in Jensen’s body, shoulders a taut, straight line. “Would that be any easier to deal with?”

Jensen goes very still, rise and fall of breathing inside the circle of Jared’s arms. He’s quiet for so long that Jared feels worry start to burn inside him, tight twists of fear in his belly. When Jensen finally speaks, it’s in a rough whisper. “You could let me have my illusions.”

“No more than you could let me have mine.” Jared turns his face, kisses the space behind Jensen’s ear, feels the shiver that runs through Jensen’s body at the touch, quick dance down his spine. Jensen sighs out a heavy breath, relaxes fractionally against Jared’s chest.

“I don’t ever want to be in the way of your life.” Jensen’s voice is stronger now, more determined.

And that makes Jared smile. Because that… that’s the easy part. “I’m going to major in a field adjacent to yours, which means we can work and travel together, if we want. I’m pretty sure I’m ruined for sex with anyone else for the rest of my life… and. I’m not coming up with much else in the way of obstacles.”

“You are…” Jensen laughs once, low. “Completely relentless.”

“It’s why you love me,” Jared murmurs.

“Not like you left me much choice on that.”

“What I just said,” Jared grins.

The corner of Jensen’s eye crinkles against Jared’s cheek, and Jared never gets tired of that; being the one to make Jensen smile. It’s all right. They’re okay.

“We’re still not rushing into this,” Jensen says after a moment, turning around inside Jared’s arms. “I want you to take some time, think about it.”

“Don’t need it.”

“Take it anyway,” Jensen says in his teacher voice, stern and impassive.

It hits Jared sharp, want like a punch to the gut. “Fuck, you’re hot when you do that.”

“I’m not kidding.” Jensen’s fingers curl in the collar of Jared’s shirt. “Promise me.”

Jared swallows hard at the raspy purr of Jensen’s voice. “Yes sir.”

And Jared will, he really _will_ , but not right now, because Jensen’s kissing him, hard and deep and wet and slow and his knees feel like they’re going to give out under the sudden assault.

Jensen fucks him face to face, Jared’s back to the couch. Takes him lazy and slow, fingers digging into Jared’s hips, buried deep inside, tongue and cock. Sweaty slide of skin on skin, bodies molded, fitting perfectly together. Jensen makes Jared come three times, Jared’s belly covered in layers of slick, and Jensen runs his fingers across the skin, painting patterns as he drives into Jared, slow and steady until he stiffens, pulses, bites out Jared’s name through gritted teeth.

*

“So lemme get this straight,” Chad says, grabbing a soda from his parent’s fridge. He pops the top and turns, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “One of his mom’s friends has been married more times than Phelps has medals?” 

Jared sighs and shakes his head, folds his arms and leans back in his chair at the kitchen table. “Is that all you got from everything I just said?”

“No. But shit, man. You just gotta stop and admire the sheer fuckin’ balls ass _crazy_ of that.”

“Chad.”

“Chill with the Captain Surly shit, Jay.” Chad slides into the chair across from Jared.

Jared sighs. “I just don’t get why he thinks the age difference is such a thing, you know?”

“Okay,” Chad says, setting his soda down. He pulls a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and cups his hand around it, lights the tip. He puffs like he’s warming to the subject and takes it between his fingers. “I’m Ackles, right? I’m coming up on thirty. I don’t believe in marriage; I’m also gay, so I’m never gonna have kids. What have I got to look forward to? Rogaine and Viagra and collecting cats and planning my fuckin’ funeral, right? Maybe going batshit senile before that, if I get really lucky,” Chad allows, shrugging. “All I’ve got is my geek-ass career and my boyfriend, and my boyfriend’s like, Lolita. And he’s smart, _and_ he’s good looking. I only got a few years before I start lookin’ like Homer Simpson. Why’s he gonna stay with me?” Chad lifts his hands like that says it all. 

_Dammit_. Okay, Jensen’s probably not in any danger of looking like Homer Simpson-- _ever_ \--but Chad’s got a point. Kind of. In his Chad-way. “I care about so much more than that, though. I don’t care what he looks like, or what he does with his life. I just wanna be with him.”

“It’s like this,” Chad says, leaning forward and pointing at Jared. “ _I_ know he could probably show up covered in blood with a basket full of severed fuckin’ heads and you’d be like, ‘hey, need help carrying those?’ But _he_ doesn’t know that.”

“Why not?” Jared asks. “He _should_ know it by now.”

“Cause he’s where he is, and you’re where you are.”

“’Cause I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together?” Jared asks.

“Jay,” Chad says, exhaling in a cloud of smoke. “I love you, but if you start mocking the Beatles I’ll throw you out the fuckin’ front door.”

“Then you wanna fucking explain that? ‘Cause I skipped the course on obscure existentialism.”

“Told you you should have taken it with me.”

Jared glares and Chad holds up his hands. “Fine. You know it ‘cause you’re you, right? He doesn’t know because he’s in love with you.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I’m _not_ in love with you,” Chad shrugs, like it should be obvious. “Okay,” Chad says, when Jared gives him a look that plainly says he has no idea what the fuck Chad’s talking about. “I’m still Ackles, right? My whole world depends on _you_. I got nothing else but ending up the gay equivalent of a crazy old cat lady. And I’m pretty sure I’m an asshole, and the world is sure I’m pretty much right. I don’t even _deserve_ you. So how can I know you’re gonna be there when _I_ probably wouldn’t be there for me?” Chad spreads his hands with a flourish, like he just performed the most amazing magic trick ever, and leans back in his seat, looking pleased with himself.

“Holy shit,” Jared breathes. “That actually made sense. You learned that in the existentialism class?”

“Nah,” Chad waves a hand through the air, trailing blue-gray smoke. “I learned that shit watching Jerry Springer.” 

Jared throws back his head and laughs.

“He starts wearing a wifebeater,” Chad says in all seriousness, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. “ _Then_ you start really worrying.”

“Hey, wifebeaters are hot,” Jared protests, trying to get his laughter under control.

“Jay.” Chad just shakes his head and looks pained. “All these years, and still I got better taste than you.”

*

They’re in bed together the next night, Jensen lying on top of him, both of them sweaty and sated when Jared thinks to ask. “You said it would be more symbolic for us… what do people usually do?”

Jensen lifts his head from Jared’s chest, still slightly out of breath. “Usually it means the sub surrenders all power to the dom. The dom becomes responsible for their protection, their well-being, their behavior, their discipline, punishment when necessary. The dom is expected to understand the needs of the sub and tend to them, and the sub is expected to do whatever the dom requests.”

“You mean… there are people who live their whole lives like that?”

Jensen nods, strokes his hand against Jared’s cheek. “That’s not something I’d ever want from you.”

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it.”

“You think?” Jensen quips, smirking.

“But… maybe…” he starts and Jensen’s eyes sharpen on him questioningly.

“Maybe it’s something we could do whenever the collar is on. You know… every now and then?”

Jensen blinks, like maybe he didn’t hear Jared quite right. “What?”

“You know,” Jared says. “I mean, it’s not all that different than what we do now, except that I’d _know_ I didn’t have control, and you’d know that you _do_. And we’d both know I _have_ to do whatever you want, and that could be…” He licks his lower lip, plunges on. “Really exciting. For both of us.” _I hope_ , he adds inside his head, praying he’s not going down the wrong path here.

“You’re serious?”

Jared nods. “How do you… what do you think?”

It a few long seconds before Jensen can respond. “What do I _think_?” Jensen asks. “You think I can actually _have_ a thought right now?”

“So you... you’d like that?”

“I don’t think like covers it,” Jensen murmurs, mouth moving closer to Jared’s.

“I’ll add it to the list, then.”

“List?” Jensen arches a brow at Jared.

 

“I started a list. You said we should both agree on what the collar will mean. That we need to define it very clearly. I figured that called for a list of rules.”

Jensen’s staring at him, expression caught somewhere between wonder and suspicion. And maybe… just maybe, a hint of pride. 

Jared shrugs. “I just thought it made sense.”

Jensen just shakes his head and looks mournfully amused. “You’re cute,” he says, thumbing Jared’s lower lip.

“Don’t forget sexy,” Jared says, wrapping his arms around Jensen’s waist. 

“And sexy,” Jensen obliges, resting his hand on Jared’s shoulder. “But, Jared. You can’t push me into this. I have to be sure you’re completely sure.”

“How are you _ever_ going to be sure I’m completely sure? Only I can know that. There’s never going to be this magic perfect moment where you ‘know’ and if we wait until it’s ‘the right time’, we’ll never do it.”

Jensen shakes his head. “It’s the right answer, Jared, but to the wrong question. When I know, I’ll know.”

“You are so _stubborn_ ,” Jared sighs.

“Said the pot to the kettle,” Jensen smirks.

*

It’s the next afternoon when Jared finally gets tired of turning things over in his head, gives up and calls Chad for advice.

“He thinks I’m trying to push him,” Jared says into the phone, pacing around the back yard. He shifts his cell to the other ear and runs a hand through his hair. “Why doesn’t he ever push for anything? Why is it always me?”

Chad exhales on the other end of the phone. “It’s like this documentary I saw one time. Some fuckin’ guy from Motley Crue...”

“Don’t ask me.”

“Sixx! Nikki Sixx. So he’s all strung out on heroin, right? Decides to do one more dose like he thinks he’s Keith fuckin’ Richards or something. Paramedics get there, take one look and declare him dead. But this one paramedic, he’s a Crue fanboy, right? So he hits Sixx right in the heart with two shots of adrenaline. Bang. Sixx wakes up. What does he fuckin’ do? Goes right back home and snorts a huge line of heroin, passes out and wakes up in a puddle of his own puke. This is _after_ another time he let some dealer shoot him up and OD’d on the spot. Dealer beats the fuck out of him with a baseball bat to stop him from convulsing, then throws him in a trashcan when he won’t stop. Sixx fuckin’ WAKES UP, still alive. I used to think Keith Richards was the fuckin’ man before I saw that shit. Sixx is part cockroach. I’m telling you; nuclear war ever ends the world? It’s Sixx and the cockroaches,” Chad says with finality. “You’re like him, dude.”

“Chad,” Jared sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Look. If anybody pushed Sixx the whole fuckin’ world might end up dead. Dude didn’t _need_ any pushing, know what I’m saying?”

“So…” Jared says slowly, trying to follow, “you’re saying that I push hard enough for both of us?”

“I’m saying you so push hard that you, Sixx and Richards could be the Holy fuckin’ _Trinity_ , man.”

“Jesus, Chad,” Jared laughs, shaking his head. “Where the hell do you come up with this shit?”

“Hell if _I_ know,” Chad says, and Jared can almost hear him shrug through the phone. “Maybe I’m the fuckin’ Holy conduit. So. We straight here, or what?”

“And what’s the lesson I’m supposed to be taking from all this, again?”

Chad sighs. “The lesson is fuckin’ _chill_. You’re flopping all over the floor like a washed up rock star on his last fuckin’ heroin binge. You _wanna_ end up in a trash can?”

“I think I liked it better when you were on my side,” Jared says, dryly sarcastic.

“I’m tellin’ you the truth, Jay. What friends are _for_ ,” Chad says lightly, and Jared can hear him drag on a cigarette. “One day you’re gonna get it, dude. You’re gonna wake up and realize ‘I should really listen to that Chad guy more often’, and then you’ll become one with the Chadness and then all will be right in the universe. One of these fuckin’ days, mark my words. It’s okay, man. I’ll wait for you,” Chad says, all mock-benevolence.

 

Jared laughs. “Thanks, Chad. You’re a saint.”

“Yeah Saint fuckin’ Chad; Patron Saint of kinky gay relationship advice, clientele of one. So what’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go think about all the wisdom you’ve imparted upon me today.”

“See, _now_ you’re getting it, Jay. Go work that shit out.” 

They hang up and Jared opens the sliding glass door. The house is cool inside, and it feels good against his skin after being out in the summer heat for so long.

And even if he doesn’t wake up and become one with the Chadness someday, he’s got to tell Chad how much he appreciates Chad being there. Hell, Chad’s probably the _only_ one who wouldn’t judge him for wanting this.

But Jared knows… Jensen’s always served Jared’s needs more than his own. It’s control, power, but it’s giving, too. Measured giving, allowing Jared to experience every sensation. It’s never been about cruelty, or torturing Jared so much as giving him the most intense experience possible. And Jared knows Jensen gets immense pleasure from that. _Jensen_ is the servant, the bringer and giver to Jared. Jensen is the one who does all the work, the planning, the predicting, knowing just how far to take things, having to be so in control, so aware of everything. So much care and attention, lavished on Jared. Jared has the easier part, by surrendering and allowing. 

So why won’t Jensen just let him surrender, this time, too?

Jared sighs and sits down on the couch, pulls the list out of his pockets and unfolds it. Legal yellow paper, wrinkled around the edges, all filled with Jared’s handwriting.

They’ve decided a lot of things over the last few days, sitting in the living room, making lunch in the kitchen, in bed at night. The rules are simple enough, things they can both easily agree on. The emotional commitments were the easiest part to write, the collar-wearing rules a little tougher, but they navigated it easily enough. 

_When the collar is clasped but not locked, Jared still has the chance to opt out. Once the collar is locked, Jensen is in control._

That one both thrills and terrifies Jared a little. He trusts Jensen completely never to do anything Jared wouldn’t want, but knowing that he has to _obey_ , even though he almost always does anyway, makes everything feel totally different.

_Either of them can ask for Jared to wear it at any time, either of them can decline the request._

Followed by the addendum; _No collaring when they’re arguing._

_In clubs and public events where collaring is a normal thing, Jared will always wear the collar. Whether it is locked or just clasped is to be decided by them both on each individual occurrence._

And the idea of the collar being locked in a public place, kinda makes his brain turn to mush.

If they ever get to that point, Jared thinks and sighs. But. No, not ‘if’, when. It’s really just a question of time, right? He’s not really sure why he’s been in such a hurry. Why? What’s he afraid of? Forever’s gonna be there, right? Not like he’s going anywhere, not like Jensen is, either.

Why _is_ he in such a hurry, anyway? It’s like he’s been on fire for this to happen since Jensen told him about it, like a… God. Like a washed out rock star on his last heroin binge. Jared makes a quick mental note that one of these days, he really _is_ going to have to start listening to that Chad guy more. 

Why won’t Jensen just let him surrender, this time, too?

Maybe because he _wasn’t_ surrendering.

He feels something uncoil inside his chest, tension he didn’t even know he’d been holding, evaporating like steam.

Jared sets down the piece of paper on the coffee table as Jensen walks into the room. 

“What, no more rules today?” Jensen asks.

Jared clasps his hands together, shakes his head. “Nah. They’ll be there.”

Jensen pauses as he’s passing in front of the table, brows rising above his glasses. 

“I mean… I was just thinking, what’s the rush, right? I want to do this, but, we’re gonna be together anyway. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. Not like rushing is going to make how we feel any more or less true,” Jared shrugs. “We’ll get there.” Another thought strikes him suddenly. “And you know… even if we never do, it still doesn’t change anything.” It’s a pleasant revelation, peaceful as it is surprising. 

“When did you arrive at this conclusion?” Jensen asks, looking surprised.

“Just now,” Jared says, sitting back against the couch, putting his hands behind his head. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’s kinda cool, actually. I feel… relieved. I didn’t even realize how stressed out I was over it.”

Jensen stands there for a second, walks around the table and sits down beside Jared. “You’re right,” he says, reaching for the piece of paper. “Let’s finish it.” He pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose and looks down the list.

“What?” Jared asks, amused and confused by Jensen’s reaction. 

“If you still want to do the ceremony, we should finish this,” Jensen says, cutting Jared a sideways glance. There’s a smile tugging the corner of his mouth, which only confuses Jared even more—and then he gets it.

“What?” Jared’s head spinning a little from this sudden turn of events, and somewhere in deep inside him, there’s happiness trying to get out, but he’s still too shocked to know which way is up. “You’re kidding? _That’s_ what you were waiting for? For me to give up?”

“No. I was waiting for the ‘control prodigy’ to realize he also had the choice _not_ to.” Jensen’s grin is as mocking as it is warm, and Jared can’t decide whether he wants to punch him or kiss him or both.

So he settles for tackling Jensen against the couch instead. “Asshole,” he hisses and kisses Jensen’s mouth hard. 

Jensen chuckles and flips Jared underneath him, body pinning him down. “So… now that you can make a _real_ choice…” Jensen says, “What’s it gonna be, Padalecki?” 

“You even need to ask?” 

“Just this once.” Jensen’s eyes are all Jared can see, fingers tracing lightly against Jared’s cheekbone.

“Yes.”

Jensen’s mouth is soft and warm as he leans in to kiss Jared.

*

They finish the list over the course of the afternoon, and when it’s done, they discuss how they want to do the ceremony while Jared rewrites the revised list on a fresh sheet of paper. They don’t talk about when they’re going to do it, spend the evening watching movies and go to bed early.

When Jared wakes in the morning, there’s a wooden box, beautiful smooth, dark wood on the night table next to him. Jared feels his fingers tremble a little as he lifts the lid. There’s a large empty slot in the white velvet lining the inside, and Jared’s confused for a second before he notices something small and silver lying in a smaller indentation just in front of the empty spot. It’s a key. The key that belongs to the collar that isn’t in the box anymore. 

The key is solid, heavy, nicely shaped, edges smooth against his palm. He closes his fingers over it, feels his stomach swoop a little. He bought the chain to string it with a few days ago. He reaches over, opens the top drawer of the night table and takes the chain from its delicate tissue wrapping. Nothing fancy, just a long, thin length of roped chain. He slides the key onto it, closes the clasp and coils it into his palm.

The bathroom is still steamy from Jensen’s morning shower. Jared sets the key carefully on the counter, turns on the shower and steps under the spray. When he’s done, he steps out and dries himself, doesn’t bother to get dressed. The box is gone from the night table when he re-enters the room. He takes his time making the bed, piles the pillows high, and then he closes the heavy curtains over each window until the room is nearly dark. He turns on the recessed lighting over the bed and then walks back into the bathroom, picks up the key and goes to the foot of the bed. He walks out a few feet and kneels in front of it, bare ass touching his heels, cups his hands together, forearms resting against his thighs as he waits. 

His stomach feels full of butterflies, skin hot, itchy, prickly, anticipation and a little bit of fear twisting him up inside. Not fear of what they’re about to do, more like the thrill of riding a rollercoaster. Scary in an exciting way; exhilarating.

It’s about ten minutes later when the door opens. Jensen is fully dressed, tight black jeans and white button down, and he looks absurdly fucking hot. The box is carried in his hands, and he walks in front of Jared, sets it on the end of the bed. Jensen turns, looking down at Jared and begins to unbutton his shirt, beautiful golden skin, taut muscles of his stomach. He slips from it, lays it out carefully on the bed beside him without turning, eyes locked on Jared’s. Then Jensen reaches out with one hand, barest graze of fingertips beneath Jared’s chin and Jared tilts his chin up to receive the collar.

Jensen turns and Jared can hear him open the box, see the muscles in his back ripple and play beneath the skin as he lifts something from it. Jared’s stomach tightens with anticipation, and when Jensen turns back, he’s holding the collar in his hands, face outward, so that Jared can see it. It’s thick, about an inch and a half wide, black leather, single silver ring in the center. The ends have metal attached to them—for the lock. Hole cut into the layer of leather in between for the key to pass through, and Jared can see the tiny grommet hooks attached there to clasp it shut without locking.

Jared lifts his eyes from the collar to meet Jensen’s. They’re both breathing a little faster, and this is… this is a _moment_. This is _it_. The room stretches out around them, empty space they don’t need. There’s just this; just them. 

Jensen’s hands are trembling as the leather touches Jared’s neck. It feels cool, smooth, almost buttery against his skin, and he shivers at the sensation, the idea of this. What they’re doing, how much it means. He knows he gave himself to Jensen a long time ago, but this feels _big_ , heart swelling inside his chest, too much to hold inside. 

Jensen’s eyes are dark, deep, in the dim light that catches, glistening at the edges. Tender, God, he’s so tender, the way his fingers stroke Jared’s skin, smoothing the leather around his neck. Face caught in shadow and half light, he’s so fucking beautiful it makes Jared _ache_. 

No words shared between them. They don’t need them. Words are to make other people understand; they both already know how they feel, what this means. It’s there in Jensen’s face as he bends, close enough to kiss Jared, gentlest brush of lips, fingers working the clasp on the back of the collar. Everything spelled out, spoken skin to skin. Jensen presses his fingertips to the back of Jared’s skull, pulls him closer and kisses him deeper.

When he finally pulls back, he goes to his knees in front of Jared. Jared lifts his hands, palms opening around the key, chain looped through the ring dangling between his fingers, dim glint of silver. He takes the chain with both hands and spreads it into a circle, slides it over Jensen’s head and settles it around his neck, key hanging in the center of his chest. There’s something reverent in Jensen’s face as Jared strokes his hands over it, down Jensen’s chest, and Jared feels his eyes well, Jensen’s face going blurry around the edges. 

“Thank you,” Jensen whispers, warm into Jared’s mouth, so raw, so sincere, and _God_ , Jared’s _heart_. “You are…” Jensen breathes, tugging him in. “Incredible.” Jared closes his eyes against his tears, feels them slip down his cheeks and parts his lips, lets them slide around the smooth slick of Jensen’s tongue. Hot, familiar twist and glide, tongues tangling, Jensen’s hands cupping his face, Jared’s hands on Jensen’s waist, and it’s slow, sweet, filled with promise and everything between them.

They don’t need words. Not now, not ever, not when they speak so much like this. He can feel everything Jensen feels in the way Jensen touches, kisses; the slight tremor in his fingers, the hitch in his breathing that’s pure emotion. Knows Jensen can feel him tremble, taste the salt of his tears.

Jensen finally pulls away, takes Jared’s hands in his, fingers entwining. They rise together, stand looking at each other for a moment. There’s a faint glistening trail on one of Jensen’s cheeks, and Jared reaches out, traces over it with his thumb, presses the dampness to Jensen’s lips. Jensen’s eyes close briefly as Jared touches him, and when he opens them again, he reaches for the belt at his waist, undoes the clasp. Slither of leather to the floor, buttons on his jeans slowly opened, pushed from his hips as he slides free, steps out. He puts his hands on Jared’s neck, fingers flexing against the collar as he pulls Jared in close, eyes dark with more than emotion. Lines of their bodies pressed together, angles and curves and muscle, flesh and blood and bone.

Jensen slowly turns them around, bodies still locked together as he pushes Jared down onto the bed. Weight of him pressing Jared into soft cotton, warm and strong, fingers tracing the curves and valleys of Jared’s skin. Kissing down Jared’s jaw, neck, tongue pushing between the collar and Jared’s throat. Jared winds his hands into the short spikes of Jensen’s hair, tilts his head back, throat arching under Jensen’s mouth, breathing out, hot and needy. Nipping at Jared’s pulse point, licking along the leather edge, and Jensen’s taking his time, enjoying every moment, every movement or sound Jared makes feeding Jensen’s pleasure, every touch of Jensen’s hands and mouth intensifying Jared’s own. 

Jensen slides lower, tongue trailing down the center of Jared’s chest, through the dip of his bellybutton, swirling out and to the side, licking the crease of Jared’s thigh. Jared moans, arches up, cock aching hard and wanting Jensen’s touch—and Jensen’s hands grasp Jared’s hips, thumbs sunk into the hollows, pressing him down. Jared stops moving, stops struggling for what he thinks he wants, lets Jensen show him what Jared _really_ wants. Beautiful, how Jensen does that, how it’s perfect every time, and Jared lets go, pulls his hands from Jensen, sinks back into the pillows and relaxes.

Jensen lets go of his hips, pushes Jared’s thighs up one at a time, slides lower and licks at the base of Jared’s balls. Jared shivers, twists sideways, biting back a cry. So much sensation, always so unexpected when Jensen winds him up like this. He forces himself to go still again, shivers under Jensen’s tongue as it dips lower, riding the crease. Flat of tongue against him, wide and sweeping up the center, down again, like licking an ice cream cone, every taste savored. Every touch, every taste so intimate, so different this time… more real… like they’re closer, more honest than they’ve ever been.

“Please…” Jared asks, and Jensen answers, tongue swirling, diving between and inside, tip wriggling. Jared bites down against his lower lip and hisses in a breath, fingers tightening against the comforter. He holds on, rides out the wicked twists and plunges of Jensen’s tongue inside him, back arching off the bed, sweat beading from his skin, face and chest hot, blood pumping hard, flush against the surface. Fingers digging deep into the muscles on the back of Jared’s thighs, holding him open and exposed, thumbs stroking, gentle skin on skin. Slide of cheek between Jared’s legs, smooth skin, angled, turning, tongue curling deep inside his body, sweet spot stroked with the tip, and Jesus, fuck, _God_. It’s like electricity arcing through his body, shoving up into his brain and frying every circuit, and he can’t keep control of this, can’t just hold on and let Jensen guide him. Has to rock his hips, undulating, sliding up and down against slick muscle. Devouring him from the inside out, and God, so sweet and slow, tip curling, hands yanking Jared’s hips, setting the pace, holding back the rhythm Jared wants. God, fuck, tongue licking out over his lips, cheek turning against the pillow, and this is… it’s not like anything else they’ve ever done. Connected on a level Jared’s imagined but never really _felt_ before; the emotion, the intimacy, the intensity of it.

Jensen fucks him open with slowly widening thrusts of tongue, until Jared’s panting and _thisclose_ to coming, if Jensen would just touch his cock. But Jared doesn’t want Jensen to touch him, just wants to wriggle and wrench and gasp on the end of Jensen’s tongue and take everything Jensen wants to give him, fingers clenched into the cushion of the mattress, lips parted and gasping for air. 

There are tears in his eyes again by the time Jensen’s done working him, hard indent of his own teeth pressed into his lower lip. He licks over the texture, faintest taste of copper, one quick breath gasped in before Jensen slides up his body like a serpent, kisses him hard and slow and deep, slick cock pressing insistently between his spread thighs, hands still holding him open. 

“Want you,” Jared breathes, hips arching up against the hot, hard velvety head of Jensen’s cock. 

Jensen pushes with his hips, slow sweet pressure filling Jared by inches, mouth locked over Jared’s, stealing his breath. Finally sinking all the way, bodies flush, Jared moaning, writhing. Jensen shudders, tremor running the length of his body, shoulders to toes, and Jared feeds it, clenches against Jensen’s cock, wraps his arms around Jensen’s body, palms skating over sweat-slick skin. 

“God, _fuck_ ,” Jensen exhales, body coiling so tight, shaking with the strain, releasing in a slow thrust. Jensen’s hands sliding over him, tasting and teasing, curling into his shoulders, fingers and thumbs rolling the muscle between, sinking deep underneath. “Only one I’ve ever wanted,” Jensen breathes, as he draws back, pushes, drives deeper inside of Jared, leaves Jared twisting, clawing at the comforter as Jensen hits that sweet spot, fills him, fingers pushing into the space between Jared’s muscles, holding him tight. 

“The way you throw yourself into everything. How you take it… how you just…” Jensen shudders, fingers clenching as he slides in and out so fast and deep it leaves Jared breathless. “Go with it,” he grates, like the words are hard to say through everything he’s feeling. “Everything I give you… you take like it’s a gift.”

“Because it is,” Jared rasps, arching against the bed, meeting the thrusts of Jensen’s hips. 

“Never thought I’d have this,” Jensen says, words whispered out hot, thick tangle of emotion breathed into Jared’s ear. Jared can feel tears well again, hot and stinging behind his eyes. 

And then Jensen’s hands are on his hips, spinning them over and around, mouth locked to Jared’s, wet, insistent heat. Fingers gliding up Jared’s stomach, chest, pushing him up, slowly away.

“Wanna watch you fuck me.” Jensen’s voice is rough, full of gravel, need and want, and it’s so fucking sexy that it makes Jared feel lightheaded. One hand on Jared’s hip as he begins to move, rocking up and down against Jensen’s cock, gasping at the pressure, the velvety hard head dragging, pushing into the bundle of nerves. Two fingers of the other hand pushing into Jared’s open mouth, and he sucks them in greedily, moans around the width of them, shudders and tenses the muscles in his belly, flexing and pulling against the sweet swell of Jensen’s cock inside him. 

Jared takes each finger in turn, swirls his tongue around them and suckles, tip curling under the fingernail, web of skin between, neck thrusting in time with the rocking motion of his body. Slow and slick, every taste savored, and Jensen gasps, bends his knuckles, fingers hooking into the sleek skin on the inside of Jared’s cheek. Jared’s hands pressed against Jensen’s belly, riding up and down at a slow gallop, sweat running from both of them now, bodies glistening, locked together in the mellow light. Gorgeous chiseled muscle of Jensen’s body under him, those eyes staring into him, watching his every move, devouring every movement, loving every moment. Those eyes, boring into him, telling him he’s such a part of Jensen that if he ever left he’d take everything with him. 

He closes his teeth around Jensen’s fingers, draws back slow, sucking. Kisses the tips and then leans down, kisses Jensen’s mouth. “Told you… I’ll never hurt you,” he whispers, angles his chin and flicks his tongue against the swell of Jensen’s lower lip.

Jensen’s teeth close around his lower lip, tug at it, quick and hard before releasing, hips driving up into Jared with a sudden surge. One hand pressing fingertips into Jared’s cheek, other on his hip, holding him as Jensen thrusts hard inside him. “I know.” Words a bare, guttural whisper against Jared’s mouth, tongue parting Jared’s lips and slipping inside. 

Salt of sweat, pure taste of Jensen, and then Jensen’s rolling him over onto his back. Jensen kisses him hard, then sits up on his knees, still seated deep inside Jared’s body. He lifts one of Jared’s legs, moves it in front of his body and turns it, laying it against the other and Jared turns sideways to accommodate the movement, gasping at the pressure of Jensen’s cock hitting different spots inside him. Jensen runs a hand down Jared’s thigh, and then he turns his body slowly, laying down, sliding snug up behind Jared. Hands on Jared’s hips and then he rolls both of them over, body pushing Jared face down into the mattress.

“ _God_ ,” Jensen breathes, hot against Jared’s ear, thrusting slow and deep. “Everything…” he says, biting, licking against the curve of Jared’s ear. “Everything I ever wanted.”

It’s perfect. Warm, and hot and _perfect_. Loving. Jensen’s never been like this before, not in all their time together. So raw and visceral and _honest_. Jared shudders, arches, slow turn of his cheek against Jensen’s face, kisses his mouth and breathes out, “Never wanted anyone else… not like I want you. Never…” he takes a deep breath, steals the air from Jensen’s mouth, feels a tremor run through Jensen’s body, still and unmoving, deep inside him. “Never wanted to be anyone’s like I want to be yours.”

“You _are_ mine.” Ragged breath against Jared’s neck, arms tightening around his body, push and flex. God, pulling out and thrusting in, and it’s still better than anything else. Facedown, Jensen’s mouth pressed to his, cock inside him, arms circled around his body, and Jared can’t think of a single thing he wants more, anywhere else he’d rather be. 

“Love you,” he mouths, kissing Jensen’s lips, barely whispered breath.

Jensen smiles against Jared’s mouth, thrusts with his hips, and Jared gasps, lets his face sink into the pillows. Jensen against his back, sinuous and insistent, lips locked against the base of Jared’s neck, mouth sucking the bone just beneath the leather that marks him as Jensen’s.

This is what he wanted and _God_ it feels… like nothing else. Like slipping under the waves, two of them blending until they’re moving together as one. Jared loses himself in it, opens himself wide and feels it all, body, heart and soul. And still, he knows there’s more, even more than this.

“Want you to lock it… want to be yours completely, every way,” he whispers through swollen lips, cheek scraping against cotton.

Jensen shudders deliciously, sending sensations shooting all through Jared, and he gasps, arches. 

“Fuck,” Jensen bites out, short, sharp hiss. “Jared…”

“Do it,” he moans into the pillows, body hot and loose, like warm taffy, full inside, so full of everything he feels like he’s high.

Jensen stills inside him, and Jared can feel those hands press together over the lock on the back of his neck, framing it for a moment, weight resting against Jensen’s palms. One hand, pulling away, and Jared can hear the score of metal on metal, feel the slightest pressure. Push and turn and… _click_.

Jared has no idea what happens now, but he’s not worried. He’s given to this, stretched out under Jensen, possessed and claimed, and this is exactly where he’s always wanted to be. He trusts in this. Whatever happens, it’s not about ownership--it’s worship. Always has been.

Jensen’s hands shake as they stroke along the lines of the collar around Jared’s neck, and then he pushes the tips of his fingers underneath the edge, tugging and tightening it around Jared’s neck. And Jensen’s never had this, never had complete permission. Jared can feel how he’s in awe of it, how he’s trying to wrap his mind around it, tasting, teasing. 

And then those fingers, tighten, curl under the collar, leather cutting into Jared’s neck, choking his breath to a wheeze. 

“So beautiful. So completely mine. Got something else for you, too, Jared,” Jensen whispers, licking a trail up the center of the back of Jared’s neck. “Just for when you decided you wanted to do this.”

Jensen pulls his hands from under the collar and Jared breathes in a deep breath, feels Jensen move, stretching across the bed. Night table drawer on Jensen’s side opening, drag of something heavy and metallic before it’s lifted out.

Jensen slides the fingers of one hand into Jared’s hair, tightens his grip and pulls Jared’s head back. “Rings are useful for a lot of things,” Jensen says, leaning in, voice dark and full of promise, breath warm against Jared’s ear. “But I think this one is going to be my favorite use.” Other hand sliding around in front of Jared, and Jared can see what he’s holding; a silver clip dangling from a long, slender length of black leather wrapped around his hand, looped handle around his wrist.

Oh _God_. It’s a _leash_. Jared feels a rush of heat run through him, tips his head back further, offers himself to Jensen.

“So good,” Jensen whispers. “You’re going to be so good at this, aren’t you? Giving yourself over to me completely. Surrendering. It’s so hot, Jared, big, powerful body, all spread underneath me, mine to do with whatever I want.” Flash of tongue against Jared’s ear, and Jensen’s everything, the only thing that _exists_ right now, because Jesus, fuck. “You’ve always been good about letting me do whatever I want to you, but this is different, isn’t it? Because you _have_ to do it. Just have to let it happen.” Jared shivers underneath Jensen, watches as Jensen thumbs the clasp, feels him hook it to the ring set in the collar. Jensen wraps the length of it around his hand until there’s only a foot of straight leather connecting them, and then he pulls back, out of Jared’s sight. Jared can feel the collar tug tight as Jensen tests the length, like he’s judging the distance and pull.

“It’s not normally meant to be used in this position,” Jensen says, adjusting, tugging. “But I had the collar made specifically so that it won’t slip once it’s in place, so that when I do this…” He yanks, quick and hard, and Jared’s head pulls up from the bed. “The collar grips to your neck.” Jensen runs his fingertips down the arched line of Jared’s neck, nails scratching the skin. “So fucking pretty,” he purrs, teeth catching the line of Jared’s vein above the collar, sucking hard, blood welling hot and bright under Jared’s skin.

And fuck, fuck, Jensen’s marking him, leash holding him taut. Breathing is hard, a distant process that he barely struggles to focus on, everything wrapped up in Jensen’s mouth on him, the pressure around his neck—and then Jensen _moves_ , hips drawing back, and Jared tries to gasp against the sudden sensation, abandons the attempt when Jensen thrusts in hard, filling him, rubbing, grinding, faint whistling sound of breath shooting from his throat.

Jensen hums against Jared’s throat, low sound of pleasure, lips parted in a smile, teeth seizing, scraping, marking, claiming all over the exposed length of Jared’s throat. Jensen’s body driving into him, dragging slow out over the sweet spot, again and again and _again_. Relentless pleasure, pressure building in his chest, and all it does is heighten everything else he’s feeling, dims his awareness down to the barest sensations; Jensen’s body molded to his, taking him, slick skin, ripple of muscle, cock moving inside him, mouth seizing, sucking, licking against thin skin and marking it, Jared’s life held in one hand by the leash, other one feathering strokes down the other side of Jared’s neck, hitting every button Jared _has_ and some he didn’t know about. 

Jensen finally relents, loosens his grip on the leash, lets Jared gasp and breathe while Jensen tries to fuck him through the bed, purring, growling against Jared’s neck, devouring and marking every available inch of skin. Brief respite, lungs filling, whole body over sensitized. He can feel every single thrust and push of Jensen inside him, body all over him, hands and mouth and heat. He can feel it when Jensen winds his hand around the leash, tightening up the length, and then Jensen puts his hand against the back of Jared’s head, palm molding to the shape, fingers tangling in Jared’s hair. Sharp tug that makes Jared’s neck want to lift from the bed, but the weight of Jensen’s hand holds him still, and instead, all that happens is that his throat closes up tight, pressure choking off his air completely. 

Distant, lizard corner of his brain trying to panic, making him want to thrash free, and he ignores it. His life, his heartbeat in Jensen’s hands, and this is _freedom_. Everything left in Jensen’s control, Jared’s body stretching straining, taking it all and trying to give more. His lungs tighten, beg for air, cock rock hard against the bed, and fuck, it’s so _good_. 

“God. I can feel your body tensing up, struggling to breathe.” Jensen’s voice is an insidious whisper, thick and dark into Jared’s ear, straight shot like heroin into his brain. “The way you’re clenched around my cock. Muscles flexing and fluttering. It’s like nothing else, is it?”

The words hit Jared like a punch to the gut. His cock pulses, wet streak against his belly, soaking into the mattress, muscles standing out like cords, hands fisted in the bed. So fucking intense, he can feel _everything_ , down to the last nerve, each one standing on end, on fire with pleasure and desperation. Jensen fucking in and out of him with savage thrusts, teeth locked around the back of his neck. His chest convulses, lungs beginning to burn, body seizing once, bright spots dancing on the inside of his eyes, and fuck, fuck. 

Jensen growls as Jared twitches, keeps riding him right to the edge, hand slipping under Jared’s belly, locking around his cock, stroking quick and hard, and then Jared’s twisting on the end of the leash, gasping for breath that won’t come, can’t even cry out against the pressure around his throat. Writhing against the mattress, he comes helplessly, cock spilling out over Jensen’s hand like an eruption, incredible sensation, welling, building, each pulse more intense than the last until he’s feels like his skin’s going to break, like he’s going to _die_.

“Yeah,” Jensen breathes, bucks his hips. “Coming so fucking hard, aren’t you?”

Jared couldn’t answer if he wanted to, dazed and thrashing against the bed. Body twitching, convulsing, shivering, chest aching desperately for air, and Jensen fucking him, harder faster. Jensen takes him like that until Jared’s cock is empty, twitching as uselessly as the rest of his body. 

“So fucking hot, Jared,” Jensen whispers, laves his tongue down the top of Jared’s spine. The pressure around Jared’s throat loosens, and he gasps for air, throat raw, feels Jensen smile into his skin, mouth dragging, trailing sucking marks across his shoulder blade. Hand still wrapped loosely around Jared’s cock, fingers tugging at him, making him hiss out the precious air he managed to steal. Everything feels too good, too _much_ , every single nerve over-sensitized and exhausted, begging for relief, for rest.

“Please,” Jared whispers, lips unfurling slow against the pillows.

“You don’t get to ask for anything, Jared. The collar is locked. It’s my job to know what you want now. You don’t even know, what you want, how much you can take, but I’m going to teach you.” Wicked mouth sucking the knob of bone at the top of Jared’s spine, down to the next, words painted against his skin, lips and tongue and heat. “And you don’t get to do anything but take it.”

Jensen tightens his hand around Jared’s cock, works him, panting and mewling until he’s fully hard again, flush against Jensen’s palm, and _fuck fuck fuck_ it’s too much, mind shrinking from the incredible pleasure, trying to deny it, but there’s nowhere for him to go, nowhere to retreat. Jensen works him, slow and steady, merciless as he swings his hips into Jared again and again, mouth sucking blood to the surface over every notch in Jared’s spine above his ribcage. Orgasm creeping up from deep inside his belly, and no no no, he can’t, not again, not when he’s this over-sensitized, not when he’s… 

“You’re mine,” Jensen whispers, body rocking into Jared hard and fast, voice close in Jared’s ear. “And you’ll do…” Thrust and grunt and squeeze of Jared’s cock, thumb flicking under the head. “Whatever I tell you.” Cock head hitting against that sweet spot, driving into Jared, and Jared begs, pretty as Jensen could want, begs him to stop, tells Jensen he can’t do it, can’t take it.

Jensen chuckles, low and deep, slides a hand over Jared’s mouth. “Shut up and _come_.”

He comes so hard that he _can’t breathe_. Cock convulsing, barest drip of come, Jensen shuddering against him, mouth teeth sunk deep into Jared’s shoulder, Jensen’s cock pulsing, filling him with slick that just makes fucking Jared that much easier, and Jensen pushes harder, deeper, thrusting, hitting that spot until Jared’s mouth opens in a scream against Jensen’s palm.

“Yeah,” Jensen gasps, body pressed tight against Jared’s, riding it out. “Like that. So fucking good.”

They move together, Jared fucking desperately into Jensen’s hand and cock, pleasure so exquisite that it borders on pain. Takes Jared to the edge and beyond, shatters him and takes him apart, until he’s left writhing under Jensen’s body, half out of his mind, brain pushed to its limits, beyond any kind of sensation he’s ever known. He whites out, can’t see a thing, but that doesn’t stop the contractions of his body, doesn’t stop Jensen from fucking him, hitting him sweet and perfect with every single thrust, wringing every last bit of pleasure from his body.

When it’s finally over and he can will his eyes open again, Jensen’s still there, pressed against his back, cheek turned into the curve of Jared’s neck. Jared takes a deep breath, stretches his lungs, and Jensen moves… lazily, fingers pushing between their bodies, curling around the key digging into Jared’s spine and drawing it free. Jensen sets it into the collar, sharp click and turn, unlocking. 

“Fuck,” Jared sighs out, beyond contented and satisfied, and Jensen laughs, pulls his hips back. Jared gasps, tiny little surprised sound as Jensen’s cock leaves him. And then there’s no time for thinking about anything else, because Jensen’s turning him over, body pressing in, mouth kissing Jared, slow and sweet. 

Jensen pulls back, looking at Jared, fingers tracing the line of Jared’s jaw. “I love you,” he says. God, he’s so intense, like the world will end if Jared doesn’t understand.

“Duh,” Jared whispers and grins, kisses him back.

  
  



End file.
